


Bad Company: A-Side Oneshots

by TeamAbaddon



Series: Bad Company [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Nephilim!Cas, Rimming, teenage!Cas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-12
Updated: 2013-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-05 03:55:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/718605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamAbaddon/pseuds/TeamAbaddon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is a teenage nephilim on the run from Heaven and Hell, and the Winchesters are the hunters who are unwittingly helping him prevent the apocalypse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Smoke On The Water

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CharleyFoxtrot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharleyFoxtrot/gifts).



> The first chapter originally appeared in our Disconnected Drabbles series; but we decided to continue the series. Some chapters are drabbles, some are longer chapters.

_Time Frame: Four months after Castiel starts travelling with the Winchesters._

Dean browsed through Castiel’s iPod lazily; glancing at the names of bands he’d never heard of and some he recognized from the t-shirts the teen wore almost religiously.

He pushed the earbuds in, selecting a song at random to see what the nephilim listened to while sitting in the backseat of the impala or in the middle of a hunt (it had worried Dean at first, always scared him that the kid would end up a vamp snack because he hadn’t heard it coming up behind him, but Castiel had yet to be caught off guard).

The song started - guitar and drums and bass and a yell - a steady heavy rhythm that made Dean’s ears ache from the volume of it. He glanced at the display on the iPod - Stupid by Girugamesh - before skipping on to the next song. He smiled, the oh so familiar riff of Deep Purple’s Smoke on the Water suddenly filling his ears.

Castiel was a weird one - always leaving his dingy Chuck Taylors in random places in the hotel rooms (Dean would always trip on them, **always** ) and listening to music Dean couldn’t get into (who the fuck even listened to Op Ivy anymore?) but Dean liked him that way.

He liked the way Castiel would sit for hours with Sam discussing the newest episode of Doctor Who when they were on a nine hour drive from the middle of Bumfuck Nowhere, South Carolina to God Only Fucking Knows Where, Pennsylvania. He liked the way Castiel would crawl into bed with him on the nights he lost at rock-paper-scissors and had to take the cot or couch in the hotel room. He liked the way Castiel would insult someone so politely they didn’t even realize he’d called them a fucking idiot until a good thirty minutes later.

He liked how Castiel would sing The Immigrant Song loud and off key with him in the car, much to Sam’s chagrin and how he’d completely demolished five demons the first time the half angel had met him and Sam with a series of expertly placed devil’s traps, a few quickly delivered exorcisms, and a righteous fury that would have brought the Devil to his knees.

Dean barely noticed when Trampled Under Foot started playing, Castiel stepping out of the bathroom with his towel draped over one shoulder, because it hit him just then that he was probably (at least a little bit) in love with the eighteen year old badass nephilim called Castiel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can stalk our Lord and Dictator (aka the person who does 90% of all the writing for Team Abaddon) on Tumblr at [cockteaseofthelord](http://cockteaseofthelord.tumblr.com).


	2. Shopping

_Time Frame: Three weeks after Castiel starts travelling with the Winchesters_

They were at some little shop off the beaten path; the smell of foreign foods permeating the air, pungent to Dean but delicious to Cas. Sam seemed at ease while browsing the shelves packed with food stuffs whose ingredient list he was unable read (Cas identified the symbols as Hangul).

It didn’t take Dean long to realize he’d lost sight of Cas; he doubted a demon, angel, or some other supernatural being that was out to kill the nephilim was going to attack while they were looking at kimchi flavored seaweed, but the urge to seek the teenager out was still pounding through his veins. Stranger things had happened, and with each day Cas spent with him and Sam he was noticing that those things were becoming stranger and stranger.

Dean made his way through the aisles, shoulders lax because there was no urgent tug at the mental link that had formed between him and the halfling. The only thing he got over the wire was peace and ease, the same feeling he got from Cas when he was stretched out in the back of the impala listening to music.

He found him on a CD aisle, a pair of clunky over-the-ear headphones on, connected to a Cd player set between rows of cases. He had his hands over the speakers, eyes closed and smiling as he nodded his head to he beat.

Dean pulled the headphone cord, yanking the jack out and abruptly filling the store with female voices telling the Devil he better run, run, run, run, run.

“I’m not even touching this one. It’s too easy.” Dean released the cord, ignoring the universal sound of ever suffering teenagers everywhere as Cas glared at his back before jamming the headphone jack back into the CD player to finish listening to the song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can stalk our Lord and Dictator (aka the person who does 90% of all the writing for Team Abaddon) on Tumblr at [cockteaseofthelord](http://cockteaseofthelord.tumblr.com).


	3. Power In A Name

_Time Frame: One month and two weeks after Castiel starts travelling with the Winchesters._

Castiel had only ever gotten it to work on accident; brought on by a fit of rage that overwhelmed his senses. Dean thought he should practice; should try and see if he could do it on will.

Castiel crouched down in front of Baraqiel, his name thick and heavy on the tip of his tongue as he rolled the soft vowels and hard consonants in his mind, gripping at the syllables as he quietly spoke his name, “Baraqiel.”

The fallen angel became stiff; panic writing itself across his face as Castiel shifted his weight from one foot to the other, clearing his throat.

“Is it working?” Sam and Dean stood by the wall - not too far from Castiel and not too close. Sam was ready to slam his hand against the blood sigil on the wall and banish the fallen angel while Dean gripped the tarnished angel blade they had wrestled from the fallen angel.

Castiel had Dean’s Zippo in his pocket, ready to set the holy oil surrounding him and the fallen angel aflame if the need arose.

“Shut up, Dean.” Castiel leaned forward, pressed the tips of his fingers against the cold ground and smiled at Baraqiel. The fallen angel sneered, lips curling in and upwards like that of a feral dog.

“Heaven’s puppy got off his chain. I once had a son, a nephilim like you. Heaven was able to kill him, what makes you think you’ll survive when you’ve made enemies with Heaven and Hell?” Baraqiel twisted against the ground, his tattered wings bleeding where they pulled against the two angel blades piercing them, keeping him locked against the cold dirt floor of the old barn.

Castiel breathed in; hands fidgeting against the ground. He didn’t know how to proceed, where to go from here. He closed his eyes, concentrated and thought. Letting Baraqiel leave would endanger them all; he would be a liability. Baraqiel was a  ** _Grigori_** , he had more knowledge of the nephilim than any angel in Heaven. So did the other Grigori - they all knew the nephilim, they were the first fathers.

And Dean was the holy vessel of Michael, his sword.

So Castiel spoke to Michael, “Sáncte Míchael Archángele, defénde nos in proélio, cóntra nequítiam et insídias diáboli ésto præsídium. Ímperet ílli Déus, súpplices deprecámur: tuque, prínceps milítiæ cæléstis, Sátanam aliósque spíritus malígnos, qui ad perditiónem animárum pervagántur in múndo, divína virtúte, in inférnum detrúde. Ámen.”

Baraqiel’s skin began to bubble; blisters growing black while swelling and swelling. His screams shattered glass, brought the Winchesters to their knees. Castiel turned his face away when light began to burst from the fallen angel’s mouth and eyes. Steam was rising from the cold floor, and then it all came to a screeching halt with the sound of an explosion and a rush of bone and organs expanding outwards like shrapnel.

Castiel felt bone digging into the skin of his arms protecting his face and felt the blood and innards dripping from his hair. He heard Sam and Dean swearing, not saved from the blow back.

“What the Hell, Cas?” Dean looked across the filthy ground to Castiel, teeth grinding together as he pressed his hand against what might have been part of a femur sticking from his shoulder.

“I don’t think he expected that to happen, Dean.” Sam threw Dean a look. He wasn’t too thrilled about having fallen angel bone shoved through his skin, either. But it had been Dean’s idea, he’d given up his right to bitch the moment he’d suggested Castiel try to control his ability to incapacitate an angel with their name.

“I have angel bone in me, Sammy. We’ve been  _ **boned**_.” Dean watched Castiel stand, legs not quite cooperating with him, and make his way over to the brothers. The nephilim sat down and scooted between them, placing his hands on their thighs.

“Cas, what are you—”

“I’m going to try to heal you, Sam. I can heal myself, I don’t see why I couldn’t heal someone else.” Castiel focused on his hands, felt the warmth spreading from his body into the tips of his fingers. He imagined the bones evaporating, the wounds knitting themselves shut. He felt the brothers both jump and tightened his fingers the best he could against the denim of their jeans.

He didn’t stop until he had to, body going lax and the need to sleep crashing down on him. He slumped over with his head resting just above Dean’s knee.

“Cas? Hey, man, are you alright?” Dean felt Castiel attempt to nod his head and sighed. He wasn’t in as much pain, the larger of the wounds taken care of.

“We should get out of here, all that angel power probably acted like a homing beacon. We could be surrounded in no time.” Sam pulled Castiel up as he stood, waiting for Dean to stand and help him walk the half angel back to the impala.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can stalk our Lord and Dictator (aka the person who does 90% of all the writing for Team Abaddon) on Tumblr at [cockteaseofthelord](http://cockteaseofthelord.tumblr.com).


	4. Something Wicked This Way Comes

_Time Frame: Three days after Castiel meets the Winchesters, two weeks before Castiel starts travelling with the Winchesters._

Castiel sat on the ledge of the hospital parking garage, knee bent and foot drawn in as close to his body as he could get it. He peered over the side, down at the busy street and the people walking towards the hospital on their phones. He watched the patients with their IV bags standing on the sidewalk, cigarettes pressed between their lips because they hadn’t gotten the message yet that they were in bad health and really needed to consider quitting.

He closed his eyes, imagined what it would feel like to have wings that would unfurl and catch the wind between the pinions; what it would feel like to have the warm spring breeze ruffle the feathers of them.

“I heard you met the Winchesters. How was that?” Gamrial leaned against the formed concrete, fingers pressing into the rough edges of the ledge. He looked straight ahead at the building where reapers were calmly making their way through the rooms of all those destined to die that night.

“Tedious? I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be on that hunt, and yet there they were. It was hard getting away, afterwards. Sam kept asking about my methodology and Dean kept trying to test for what kind of supernatural being I was. It’s actually very hard to talk when you’ve got someone throwing holy water in your face.” It wasn’t that Castiel had been opposed to meeting the Winchesters; it was just that he knew their stance on all things not human; and while he breathed and aged and lived (mostly) like a human did, sometimes it became nearly impossible to hide that he wasn’t all human.

“Tedious…”

“Do you have another job for me?” Castiel knew his continued existence was a tenuous thing; so long as he bowed his head and carried out the orders handed down to him from Heaven he could live, but at the first sign of rebellion he would be put down like a lame dog. Nephilim were not supposed to exist; they were forbidden, the result of the taboo union between angel and human.

No angel had stepped forward and claimed him as their own; it would result in their immediate exile – marked as Grigori and bound in the valleys of the Earth until judgment day.

“Your orders are to remain here, Castiel. I feel I should tell you you’ve done well; Radueriel has taken your obedience into consideration, he has a meeting with the Irin and the Quaddisin to discuss the possibility of transformation.” Castiel tried to bite back the snicker at Gamrial’s words; transformation into an angel was just a way for them to control him, to destroy his human side and work him into the mechanism known as Heaven.

“Tell them not to bother, Gamrial. I don’t see the point in it. I’m already Heaven’s dog; I don’t need to be its puppet.” Castiel could felt a twinge when he spoke Gamrial’s name; a pull he’d never felt before. It was like a tight string being plucked. Something that was just out of grasp. The angel seemed to feel it, too. His borrowed body went rigid for just a moment – only a fraction of a second – and when that fraction of a second passed his eyes grew wide and mouth hung open like a specter in a haunted mansion.

Castiel swallowed, licked his lips and opened his mouth to speak. Gamrial held his hand up, head yanking from side to side in an unused gesture.

“Remain here, Castiel. That is all you should do now.” The nephilim opened his mouth to speak again, and the angel flew away before the first formation of syllables could escape. Castiel tilted his head, staring at the space where Gamrial had vacated.

Something was coming; Castiel could see it in the urgency that the reapers showed in collecting souls to guide towards their final resting place. He could feel the excitement boiling over from the Old Gods. But mostly he could tell through talking to the people who came into Venus Pie; by listening when they talked about the large black shadow with wings and red eyes.

Something was coming, something was about to happen, and Heaven wanted him to stay put.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can stalk our Lord and Dictator (aka the person who does 90% of all the writing for Team Abaddon) on Tumblr at [cockteaseofthelord](http://cockteaseofthelord.tumblr.com).


	5. Precious and Grace

_Time Frame: Ten months after Castiel starts travelling with the Winchesters._

Castiel huffed out the thirtieth sigh of boredom in just as many minutes – Sam was keeping count, he had a tally off in the margin of the paper he was taking notes on – feet propped up on the headboard of the bed with his head resting on the duffle bag Dean had deposited on the mattress before sitting down at the table with Sam.

Their current case was boring on top of frustrating. Not because it wasn’t a case worth their time, because really it was, but because Castiel was on strict orders to not leave the motel room. At all. The witch they were hunting was cursing the significant others of the men she fancied, so naturally on their first day Dean had used himself as bait and had gotten dates with several local women. And of course that meant Castiel couldn’t be seen with him. Period; for any reason.

“You know he’s not taking these dates seriously, right Cas?” Sam dropped the pen on the table, watching as the nephilim sat up and crossed his legs. He almost said something about Dean and Castiel’s habit of leaving their shoes on while sitting on the bed, decided against it, and waited for the teen to respond.

“We’re not exactly mutually exclusive, Sam. We’ve kissed and we share a bed at night.” Castiel wondered about the validity of his own words, but made no effort to amend them. He shrugged lightly at the look of unadulterated exasperation (Dean referred to this as Sam’s bitch face) Sam shot him. Sam held Castiel’s gaze for a moment longer, still not convinced he wasn’t at least a little upset that Dean was out on dates with random women in an attempt to suss out their witch, before returning to his research.

“I just think it means something that Dean doesn’t want to risk the witch knowing about you.” Sam didn’t look up from his laptop to catch the slight look of contemplation Castiel gave him. Nor did he see the way Castiel visibly perked up when the doorknob turned, signaling Dean’s return from his date for the night.

“Emily isn’t the witch.” Dean bypassed the mini fridge and the available chair in favor of the bed. He didn’t sit, simply extending his hand out and waiting for Castiel to take it, “Come on, we need beer and you’re going with me.”

Castiel let Dean pull him up off the bed by the hand, “Are you sure it’s safe for me to be seen in public with you?” Castiel grabbed his wallet from the nightstand and his hoodie from the floor. He could feel Sam watching them, even with his back to him while pulling the hoodie over his head, as if they were an alien species.

“Not at all, which is why we’re going to the next town over. We’ll be back soon, Samantha, so don’t angst while we’re gone.” Sam pegged Dean in the back with his pen, rolling his eyes so hard he was sure God had felt it as Dean clamped his hands down on Castiel’s shoulders to guide him out the door.

Sam shook his head as the door shut behind his brother and the nephilim. Not mutually exclusive Sam’s ass; Dean was taking Castiel out on his version of a date.

\--

They’d made it precisely thirty minutes down a two lane road flanked by cornfields on either side, singing along with ZZ Top as they made their way towards the neighboring town. The windows were down, Castiel’s arm extended out and shifting up and down with the wind.

“You know I could actually help with this case, right?”

“We’re not talking about the case, Cas. We’re going to get beer, get drunk, and tomorrow I’m going to try and smoke out the witch so we can get back on the road.” Dean pressed down on the gas and turned the music up.

Castiel turned the music back down, ignoring the glare Dean gave him and unbuckled his seatbelt. He turned towards the older hunter, back pressed against the door and arms crossed over his chest. Dean moved to turn the music back up, only to have Castiel lean forward and slap his hand away from the knob.

“Oh no, we’re fucking talking about it, Dean. I’m more than capable of dealing with a witch. She curses me? Fan-fucking-tastic, at least then you’ll know who the witch is and you can gank her. Problem fucking solved.”

Dean gripped the steering wheel, pressing further against the gas pedal. They drove another two minutes in silence before turning down an access road without slowing down. Castiel almost fell out of his seat, bracing himself against the dash just in time for Dean to slam on the breaks.

Dean got out of the car, slamming the door shut. Castiel pushed himself all the way back onto the seat, only to have Dean open the door and pull him out. Castiel’s feet scrambled against the car as Dean pulled him around to the front of the car.

Castiel found his footing, pulling away and shoving Dean back against the car, “What the actual fuck, Dean?”

“You want to know why I don’t want you involved? What if you died, you little shit?” Dean pulled Castiel towards him by the hips. Castiel pressed forward until Dean was leaning back, hoisting himself up so he was straddling Dean’s thighs.

Dean hoisted Castiel up, standing just enough to turn and sit Castiel down on the hood of the impala. Castiel yanked Dean down by the collar of his shirt, biting at his lips as Dean undid the button of his pants.

“You’re such an overprotective bastard.” Castiel lifted his hips so Dean could pull his pants and boxers down to his thighs. Castiel gasped against Dean’s mouth as the older man took his dick in hand, hips surging upward to meet Dean’s pace.

“Lie back, Cas.” Castiel used his feet to shuck his loosely tied neon green Converses off, lying back against the hood as Dean finished pulling his pants off and dropping them on the ground.

“Wait, wait, hand me my pants.” Castiel reached out for the pants Dean lifted back up from the ground and took his wallet from the back pocket. He dropped the pants next to him while pulling a sample packet of flavored lube from the wallet.

“Seriously?” Dean took the packet from between Castiel’s fingers, leaning over him and kissing his Adam’s apple. He was barely aware of the sound of Precious and Grace playing on the stereo, quietly singing the chorus line against Castiel’s skin.

“I’m like a Boy Scout; always prepared.” Dean pulled Castiel down to the end of the hood, kneeling down and dropping the packet next to him before taking Castiel’s dick into his mouth, pressing with his tongue and dragging it along Castiel as he pulled up and off, the tip of his tongue brushing over the slit.

“On your stomach.” Dean moved back, watching as Castiel turned over, forearms pressing against the hood and legs apart. Castiel pressed his cheek against the hood as Dean parted his ass cheeks, tongue dragging along his asshole. He let out a stuttered cry, pressing back against Dean’s tongue as he pressed the tip inside.

Dean opened his mouth wide; fucking Castiel’s asshole with his tongue, alternating between licking and pushing his tongue inside. Castiel’s hips were rocking forwards, breath coming out in hot pants against the black metal.

“I need more, Dean.” Dean leaned back and searched the ground for the lube, finding it and silently thanking the powers that be for easy tear foil packs. He slowly circled a finger along the rim of Castiel’s asshole before pressing in. He felt his muscles contract, waiting a moment before slowly pulling back and then pushing in.

Castiel let out a string of nonsense as Dean alternated between fucking him with his tongue and fingers, rolling his hips and pushing back. Dean crooked one finger downward, shifting his finger side-to-side while pushing in and pulling out until Castiel’s entire body jerked.

Castiel’s body twitched, fingers pressing against the hood of the impala each time Dean brushed against his prostate until he was coming on the grill.

Dean stood, gripping Castiel’s hip with one hand and fucking into his other fist. He pressed his forehead down against the nephilim’s shoulder, breath coming in short bursts as he came on Castiel’s ass.

They stayed there, catching their breath for a few moments. Dean pulled his over shirt off, using it to clean his hands and Castiel’s ass. Castiel grabbed his pants, pulling them on quickly while Dean searched the ground for his wallet.

“Let’s say I let you finish this case the way you want…”

“Really, Cas, you want to talk about that now?” Dean held Castiel’s wallet up while climbing in the car. Castiel joined him inside, buckling up while Dean put the car in reverse and carefully backed out towards the road.

“Just stop arguing for once and listen. You finish out this case the way you want, but after this one you stop being such an overprotective asshole.”

\--

“Stop being a baby.” Castiel sighed as he pressed an antibiotic covered cotton ball against the cut on Dean’s forehead, rolling his eyes when Dean hissed in pain. Sam watched from the bathroom doorway, trying to stifle his laughter as Castiel stuck a Superman band-aid over the cut.

“You good to hit the road tonight? Cas and I found a case in Springfield, Ohio.” Sam moved out of the way so Castiel could leave the bathroom and start packing their bags. He looked his brother over, satisfied with Castiel’s assessment that the damage had been minimal.

“Yeah. Super.” Sam and Dean joined Castiel in the room, gathering their belongings and shoving them into duffle bags.

\--

_Ridin' top the floodway on a Friday night,_

_the landscape's a fine and nat'ral sight._

_Just cruisin' slow through the dark of night._

_With Precious and Grace ev'rything's all right._

_Good God Almighty, we was goin' down slow,_

_yeah, if we knew just where we had to go._

_Cryin', just a flyin' down a put out road_

_with Precious and Grace in my flathead Ford._

_So if you're out rollin' late some night,_

_yeah, and you need that supernatural delight, I'm talkin' to you, brother,_

_I know somebody's, they's just out of sight._

_Get with Precious and Grace, they gonna treat you right._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can stalk our Lord and Dictator (aka the person who does 90% of all the writing for Team Abaddon) on Tumblr at [cockteaseofthelord](http://cockteaseofthelord.tumblr.com).


End file.
